


Late on Rent

by LEGUNDY



Series: LEGUNDERY Kinktober 2020 [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol, Bathroom Sex, Facials, M/M, Men Crying, Rape, Violence, the b slur is used once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:41:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26761546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LEGUNDY/pseuds/LEGUNDY
Summary: Ralph is late on his rent and the bill collector isn't happy. Day 1 of Kinktober!
Series: LEGUNDERY Kinktober 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950034
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	Late on Rent

Ralph wishes he could blame this on someone else, but there's no one to point to but himself. He slacked off on his shifts, he slacked off on sales, and he thought he could pass it off to the next week without any repercussion. He's only short a measly few hundred bucks - even with the late fee, he's sure he can make that by next week's end.

The man shoving him against the bathroom stall doesn't seem to agree. Ralph kind of knows who he is, but he also has never put effort into remembering his name. He's just the guy he's supposed to pay rent to. Not the landlord, not even the apartment manager, just the guy he leaves the tab with. He has a gruff sort of disposition and Ralph isn't sure he should have approached him at the bar, probably should have waited until business hours to ask for a week's delay on the rest of his payment, but Ralph is the sort who would do that, he supposes. He goes with the flow. He doesn't mind doing things without planning. All the personality tests he fills out during job apps seem to agree - he's not dependable in the slightest, but also, he won't rock the boat. Just forget the oar back on the dock.

The man shakes him by the shoulders. "You know how I remember you? You're late every fucking month." The guy smells like beer. Expensive beer. This guy isn't the sort to buy the same stuff the college kids drink. "Do I gotta drill into you how rent works? What isn't getting through your skull?"

"Like I said." Ralph enunciates every word carefully. He's not drunk, but maybe the bill collector is. Just a matter of being courteous. He ignores the twitch in his eyebrow as he speaks. "I don't get paid until the - "

"Bullshit you don't. You think I don't keep track of every story you come to me with?" The man drops him with a clatter and steps back to stare at him. Glare, actually. He seems to be glaring. Ralph hazards a smile. "What? Go on, make up another."

"I won't insult you like that," he says easily, his hands going up as if that will cool off the anger emanating from him. "But, come on - You know I come through every month, even if I'm not always on time. I know it sucks that I'm late and all, but… Can't I get back on your good side?"

Ralph can see the gears turning in his head, the click of each tooth moving past one another. It's almost from focusing so much on said gears that Ralph nearly misses the dark shade come over the bill collector's face. By the time he does, it's way too late.

The door lock thuds as the bolt slams into place. Ralph feels his hair stand on end. He's going to get beat up, isn't he? It hasn't happened in years. His hands are on him, next, the older man's hairy knuckles shoving him into the locked door face-first. Ralph is dazed for a moment but wakes with a start when he feels hands down low. He squirms. He squeaks out a, "Hey." 

"Shut up, you bitch." The man's other hand slams his head back into the door, hard enough for Ralph to see stars. He feels both his pants and his boxers fall down around his knees, feels the man's hand move to press him down by the middle of his shoulders as his brain scrambles to figure this out. This hasn't happened before. Is this what's happening? It can't be. He decides it isn't, but his voice is shaking when he says, "This isn't funny." He can hear a zip, can't see behind himself well enough, but feels the heat all at once. It's searing. Ralph jerks away from it, hissing like it branded him, like the mark is still sizzling with the pain. "Hey - Come on!"

"Shut up," the man repeats, his voice harder, angrier. "Shut the hell up!" He feels fingers in his hair at the same moment he feels his forehead slam into the thick door again. By the time color comes back to his vision, that same branding rod is aiming up and into his ass.

"Stop!" he yells, clarity forced into him by the sudden shove forward. He's pressed flat against the door as the man begins thrusting inside, and it's all he can do to claw at it, try and pull away, move to the side, something, this can't happen to him. Why isn't he just beating him up? Why is he even conscious? How did the door not knock him out? Ralph begins to slam his head into it again in an attempt to right that but it's yanked back before he can even try, pulled back so far by his hair that it feels like his throat will rip in two. "Stop," he whimpers, then falls silent at the sound of how pitiable his voice is.

"You say one more word, I'll make it _hurt_ ," the man hisses.

Ralph can feel tears welling in his eyes, clashing with the ones already there. "It already hurts," he manages. 

As if to keep his promise, the man thrusts in hard, deep, so deep that Ralph chokes on his own scream, leaning up on his toes to try and follow the push, lessen the impact, even as it drives him harder into the door with nowhere further to go. He sobs out in pain, finally, his hips rocking back solely by the force of the man's pulling back. It's like his cock pulls him every which way and there's no way to get any reprieve. Every deep thrust feels like his body will break, but every retreat simply reminds him of the gash open inside him, empty and hollow and aching until it's filled again by the next thrust, the next burst of pain. He shivers and shakes and scrabbles for something, anything, maybe the noise of the scratches on the door will alert someone outside. But it doesn't.

He clatters to the floor when the man pulls out, leaned forward and finally able to lower his head as he gasps for air. Terrified, he looks up at him, at his hand that's quickly jerking at his dripping cock. He doesn't expect what comes next, but it's the thing that finally silences him. He stares in horror as the man finishes on his face, spilling himself over his tears and drool and bruises and every other way he's sullied him tonight. Ralph tries to scream, tries to wheeze out a begging desire to let him go, to stop, but then the man does. He backs up with a deep breath, taking in the sight of the younger man hunched over on the bathroom floor.

"Tomorrow," he says. He enunciates every syllable, like Ralph can't understand him anymore. He's almost correct. "Deal? Or I'll find you again."

The bathroom door is unlocked at some point. Ralph finds himself alone on the floor, catching his breath, and desperately trying to think of what he can sell in the next 24 hours to make that deal happen.

He still can't even remember his name.


End file.
